wisdom

It was the late 1980’s and a Grateful Dead cover band was playing it hot at a local college bar. Across the room I saw her. A classic Deadhead chick in faded jeans and a tie-dye, covered with a loose peasant blouse. She was balancing a beer in a plastic cup while un-self-consciously bopping to the music. To say she was an enticing vision would be an understated lie. She was just outstanding. At 19, I probably fell in love at least twice a week but this moment stood out. I was not the type to approach a girl in a bar and I may have stared a little too intently but it definitely felt like lightning had struck.

As it turned out I eventually got to know this stunning hippy girl, just a little, and away from that moment in time the magic was gone. She was sweet and cute but there was no connection. In retrospect that moment at the bar, aside from my unwieldy 19-year-old ardor, was a great summation of my understandably naïve take on beauty.

Back then I was limited in my perception of so many things. If I were to consider my opinion of what was beautiful at that time it would now seem dated and superficial. I’ll present here, embarrassing as it may be, what might have been my vision of an ideal evening at that time even if it was, in reality, completely out of reach. I’d pick up my date (picture the hippy chick above but really into me) in my new red Porsche 944 (one of the company’s few failed models), we’d have a fine meal at TGI-Friday’s (who knew mozzarella could be deep-fried!) and then we’d head off to the movies to see the latest John Hughes teen angst flick (to this day I still don’t quite understand Eric Stoltz’s big plan in “Some Kind of Wonderful”). I know. This scenario is not appealing.

Cut to 2019 and the world is spinning wildly out of control and we the people are divided. Social media is pervasive and invasive and we’re clearly, as a society, moving forward into unchartered territory in so many ways. As for me, I’m as immersed in the chaos as anyone else but I endure and now I believe, I have a more credible and learned perspective on the subject of what constitutes beauty.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man. Obviously, watching our children grow and evolve is a no-brainer but is also a profound movement away from inherent pre-kids self-absorption. Having worked for many years, I now recognize the allure of someone doing a job, any job, with commitment, honor and excellence. I’ve been fortunate enough to have unexpected friendships that make life more fulfilling and fun. I’m also lucky to still be able to compete athletically at sports I loved as a child. Not to mention the pleasure of good food be it a bacon and egg on a roll or fresh summer peach.

I can now see beauty in so many things that had been inconceivable to me when I was a younger man.

Undoubtedly, the most consistent and important aspect of beauty I’ve been fortunate to be exposed to is my wife. Laurie is the embodiment of gorgeous both physically and spiritually. I’ve known her a long time and am completely secure in our relationship yet I still have moments where I shake my head and say, “How the hell did I achieve this”? On a typical morning, she’ll get dressed for work and ask me how she looks. This daily exchange has occurred for years. My first instinct is usually to say “beautiful” because that’s the truth. However, I usually choose a more work-setting appropriate adjective. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I look forward to that interaction every day.

Way back, at 19, I had another one of those memorable moments not unlike at the bar with the Deadhead chick. A lovely girl pulled up in a funky orange European car wearing a red-sweater and blue jeans. She had stunning coffee-colored eyes that matched her long hair. My heart fluttered a bit as I caught sight of this beautiful young woman. It was years later that we got to know each other well. Of course, it was Laurie and the lesson I’ve learned is that true beauty can even transcend the naivete of youth.

In Loving Memoriam

Remembered as insightful, selfless and supportive, Deborah Shimer—a professional life coach and a decades-long Chappaqua resident—died of cancer on June 29, 2018. She was 54 years old.

Deborah was born in London to Geoffrey and Barbara Nelson on October 2, 1963. In 1979, she moved to New Jersey with her mother and sisters, Margaret and Hilary, eventually becoming a United States citizen.

After graduating from West Windsor High School in 1981, Deborah attended the Katherine Gibbs School in New York and went on to work for Tishman Brothers, a Manhattan-based real estate company, first as executive secretary and then as an assistant project manager.

Deborah moved to Chappaqua in 1989 with her first husband, Robert Fischman. Together, they raised three children: Josh, Zachary and Leandra.

“She always encouraged me and my siblings to do what felt right for us, without judgment, and we were so lucky for that,” Zachary said. “Above all, she taught us to keep an open mind and to do what made us happy.”

Deborah and Robert later divorced, and, in 2013, she married Sam Shimer, also a Chappaqua resident. The couple moved to St. Petersburg, Florida last year.

“She was the kindest, most caring and most loving person I have ever known,” Sam said. “She never compromised—not in our relationship, or in any of her relationships. She always worked to make her life, and our life, better, and she truly wanted everyone she cared about to be happy and fulfilled.”

A few years ago, when Deborah found out that one of her friends, Rosie Battista, planned to spend her birthday alone, Deborah “dropped everything,” Rosie recalled, and drove two hours to meet her for dinner in New Jersey.

“She was the epitome of what a friend should be,” Rosie said. “She always wanted to be happy and to make sure people around her were doing the things that would make them happy. Even as her illness progressed, she kept asking how I was doing. It was just who she was.”

Throughout her life, Deborah found ways to direct her personal passions toward entrepreneurial endeavors.

First, Deborah turned her attention to nutrition. She attended the Institute of Integrative Nutrition in New York City in 1999 and then started her own business, Food & Balance, to help people adopt healthier eating habits.

But as time progressed, Deborah came to see her mission in broader terms, and to view food as just one component of guiding clients toward more fulfilling lives.

In 2013, Deborah rebranded her business “Desire on Fire” and formally broadened her focus to life coaching. “Her aim was to help her clients lead their best lives, from relationships to parenting to work,” Sam explained. “It was all encompassing for her.”

Through Desire on Fire, Deborah led small support groups—referred to as “Desire on Fire Circles”—consisting of a half dozen women each. Under Deborah’s leadership, participants pushed each other to pursue their passions.

“She spoke her truth during these circles. She was able to tell people what they wouldn’t or couldn’t see for themselves, always in a loving way, but not stopping until she was heard,” said Joy Perlow, one of Deborah’s’ closest friends and a Circle participant. “That was a key part of the Circles: being heard.”

In recent weeks, Joy said that Desire on Fire clients have discussed ways to honor Deborah’s memory, first and foremost by leading their lives as she led hers. “Deborah lived and breathed her business: It’s what she tried to do in her life, find happiness and help other people do the same,” Rosie added.

Deborah’s giving nature extended beyond her business: over the past decade, she supported a school for orphans in Kenya called the Green Olive Children’s Home, raising tens of thousands of dollars for the organization and bringing supplies when she visited it each year.

On July 22, family and friends gathered in Naples, Florida to celebrate Deborah. Speakers included her sister, stepbrother, and husband Sam.

“Honey, you were amazingly impactful, powerful beyond words, and most certainly successful in ways that cannot be measured,” Sam said in the closing remarks of the service. “You will be missed, remembered and quoted by so many people, which is the truest measure of what you accomplished both in your work, and in how you lived your life.”

Deborah is survived by her father, Geoffrey Nelson of Mombasa, Kenya; her mother, Barbara Cohen of Naples, Florida; her sister, Margaret Islin of Essex, England; her children, Joshua of New York City, Zachary of Asheville, North Carolina and Leandra of South Salem, New York; and her husband, Sam Shimer of St. Petersburg, Florida.

David Shimer is one of Deborah’s three stepchildren.

Deborah’s Top Ten Wisdoms

Deborah’s husband Sam gave a loving tribute at her memorial service on July 22nd in Naples, FL. A highlight for those who knew Deborah is excerpted below:

Deborah and Sam

Based on my years of conversations with Deborah, what I heard her say to others countless times, as well as my perspective about what she might want me to say, I am going to share the Top Ten things that Deborah would want conveyed to you on her behalf as we are here to remember her today. Of course, it will be without her beautiful accent, which you can imagine as I go through the list. I am sure that you heard many of these from her over the years.

Love each other. All of you. Just love each other and the people who matter to you. And not quietly or stoically. Tell each other how you feel and show it with a fierce hug.

Speak your truth. Holding things in doesn’t help. If you can say it in a gentle and loving way, try to do so. But speak up. No matter what.

(L-R): The author and her family, Eric, Marlene, Jonah, her husband Mark and IsaacPHOTO COURTESY OF MARLENE KERN FISCHER

A Letter to Younger Moms from an Older Mom

Now that I’m on that other side of parenting (meaning my three sons are mostly grown and I’m no longer in the trenches), I’ve had some time to reflect. When I say reflect, I mean think about things I think I got right and things about which I was off base. There are things I wish I had known–things I would tell my younger self about being a mother if I could. Here is some of what I would say…

Dear Younger Me,

First-

I am not going to tell you to enjoy every minute of parenthood because, if I offer that advice, I know you will find a way to reach across time, into the future, and smack me (and you would also think an impostor was writing to you). While one kid is vomiting and another is shrieking and the third is out of sight and up to mischief, it’s hard to think about how fleeting time is. I realize that from where you’re standing right now, time may as well be standing still. Just know that the time will pass and, despite their best efforts to break you, you will survive somewhat intact.

Give them your all but-

Save a little something for yourself. I threw myself into parenting because it’s the job I always wanted. However, I wish I had done just a tiny bit more for myself. Like writing–I know I barely had time to think, much less create cogent and insightful sentences but I wish I had held tighter onto the things that were important to me. I’m grateful to get a chance to do more now but I wish I hadn’t waited so long. So, younger me, please listen and nurture yourself, as well as those children. Carve out a little time for you.

Stop worrying so much-

I know you can’t help worrying. Unfortunately, that’s not going to change in the future. But I can tell you that all the worrying you are doing is a huge waste of time and effort. At least try and dial it down a notch if you can. Or start meditating a little so you can be a tiny bit more Zen.

You’re not screwing them up-

Good news; despite a few mistakes we made along the way, they all turn out fine. They are actually pretty hardy and resilient creatures. Even the high strung one. In fact, they are more than just fine–they are terrific. They aren’t necessarily any tidier but they are good people who care about each other, their friends and girlfriends… yes, I said girlfriends. They are now human enough to have significant others–really nice ones you’re going to like. You will finally have other females in the house. And, as a bonus, I want you to know the kids will be able to get jobs and support themselves.

It’s just a phase-

The baby who wakes up all the time? He does learn to sleep through the night. And that kid who only eats pasta? He will start eating chicken and veggies at some point. How about the one who keeps having tantrums and throws things when he loses? Yup, he will stop doing that. In fact, he’s so docile now it’s hard to believe he’s the same person. And how about the one who can’t manage his money? OK–we are still working on that one but I’m guessing he learns how to do it someday soon. My point is, although their personalities don’t completely change most of the behavioral stuff really is just a phase. Just ride it out like you would a wave and know that some new weird behavior will come along before you know it. And that even if it doesn’t, it eventually ceases to be your problem (at least to some degree).

You already know this but-

Despite the craziness and lack of money and time, work on keeping the marriage magic going. Try and go out a little more; the kids will be fine without you. I know you want to be with them but they really will grow up and have their own lives. You need to make sure you and the hubby still have things to say to each other after they are gone.

I don’t want to tell you everything that is going to happen–some of it is amazing and some, well…you will get through the bad things too. And at the end of the day you will even still have a sense of humor.

Most of all I want you to know two things:
You did a great job and I’m proud of you.
When it’s all said and done you will be so glad you did it all.

So hang in there. I will check in on you again and, if you need me, feel free to reach out and I will be there for you.

Love, Older Me

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